


Ain't That A Kick in the Head

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Royal OT3 AUs [8]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corvo and Daud really looked at each other and decided "That's my idiot now", Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Emily: yay two dads!!, Humor, Idiots in Love, Jessamine Kaldwin Lives, Low Chaos (Dishonored), M/M, POV Daud (Dishonored), Polyamory, Regrettably that is the love of my life, and Jessamine is just like "And you're both mine", implied Royal OT3, just nonsense, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29261382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: “There’s about as much technique to this as falling — any idiot can fall.”“You’re not helping yourself, bodyguard,” Daud rumbled, knowing it had been the wrong thing to say when Corvo’s mirth only grew. “What?” He knew that look. He knew to fear it.
Relationships: Corvo Attano/Daud, Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin, implied Corvo Attano/Daud/Jessamine Kaldwin
Series: Royal OT3 AUs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1105698
Comments: 48
Kudos: 55





	1. Fear of Heights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BID](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/gifts).



> The idiot: Corvo.  
> The straight man: Daud.  
> The one cackling in the night: me.
> 
> For BID, for somehow knowing in their bones that this was exactly the prompt I needed!
> 
> For prompt, peep here: [LINK](https://screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse.tumblr.com/post/642092359784497152/update-so-you-dont-gotta-check-all-the-reblog).

One day, Daud decided that he had enough. One day, Daud did no longer believe in apathy. One day, the Knife of Dunwall chose a side.

And in so doing, saved an Empress, her daughter, and a few good men from ruin. He saved the best man he’d ever known — Dunwall had ever known. Loyalties had been lost, allies and enemies had lost their places. Daud had turned around the foundations of everything he’d built, and it had been the ruin of his house. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Especially not now: in the Tower gardens, the summer sun standing high above them, with his charges as safe as they were going to be. He and Corvo were… horsing around, there was no other word for it, much to the amusement of Jessamine and Emily. They were hardly fools enough to use the Outsider’s gifts out in the open like this, but there was nothing wrong with a practical demonstration of hand-to-hand combat. Increasingly — especially feeling the weight of Jessamine’s appreciative glances on his back — Daud felt as though presenting himself on a silver platter. They had both shed their coats, Corvo’s shirt unbuttoned to his chest, revealing collarbones and a little divot in between where beads of sweat pooled, glistening, and then ran down along Corvo’s tan skin.

Daud fought not to take his eyes off the prize. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up, gloves swapped out for one of Corvo’s wrist straps to disguise the mark, and each time Corvo gripped his bare forearms to block a hit and turn the momentum against him, Daud only just stopped himself from biting his lip. With a less than graceful twist, he freed himself from Corvo’s grasp, stumbling a little when, haphazardly (and entirely against the rules of engagement), Corvo got a fistful of his shirt instead and pulled him back.

“Attano!” Daud barked, and his protests were drowned out by three times the laughter. Reaching over his shoulder, he smacked Corvo’s hand away, then turned to glower at him. “That your idea of technique?”

Corvo had the gall to grin at him.

“There’s about as much technique to this as falling — any idiot can fall.”

“You’re not helping yourself, bodyguard,” Daud rumbled, knowing it had been the wrong thing to say when Corvo’s mirth only grew. “What?” He knew that look. He knew to fear it.

“You ever do any of the fear of heights challenges in Karnaca and Cullero?” Corvo asked, all innocent. “You know, diving off the highest point of Addermire? The bridges, the carriage rails? Batista Overlook?”

Daud went cold all over as though dunked head-first into an ice bath. He watched the look on Corvo’s face transform into something far less innocuous. Without knowing how, he knew _what_ was coming. Void, he’d only been working with this man for eleven _months_.

“Attano, no—“

“Race you to the top of the bridge!” And with that, Corvo took off — and for goodness’ sake, _not_ on foot.

Daud hesitated precious seconds — his gaze sought out Jessamine. Emily in her lap, she regarded him with a similar challenge in her eyes, and she didn’t even need to say anything for him to hear her. ‘Go on, bring him back, if you can catch him.’ Far more concerned with what might happen if someone else _caught_ Corvo, Daud set off after him.

Transversal allowing him to take shortcuts that were inaccessible to someone with Blink, Daud soon found himself hot on Corvo’s heels. They met again on top of the drawbridge connecting the Tower and Coldridge — not a spot Daud particularly enjoyed, on any given day. Meeting Corvo’s eyes, Daud huffed. He was _daring him_.

“You’re mad,” Daud called, this high up only meeting the competition of the wind and the screeching of the gulls. “You’re actually insane.”

“Come on, Daud,” Corvo returned cheerfully. “Live a little!”

Daud should turn around and leave the man to his madness, and yet — when Corvo looked down at the water of the channel, securing his footing and planning his descent much as a crow might before taking flight (only crows did not plummet like _stones_ ), Daud knew he would follow.

He’d throw himself after him, if just to make sure that the idiot wouldn’t drown.

“Cor—“ was all Daud managed before Corvo threw him one more grin and then—

jumped. Daud’s heart leapt into his throat, and he followed Corvo’s graceful descent — damn him — with his eyes, before skipping over to where he’d stood.

_Damn him._

He jumped, too, and as the wind rushed in his ears, he felt his insides flip with something that savoured dangerously of happiness. Hitting the (not freezing, but still cold) water served to sober him up, at least, but seemed to have no such effect on Corvo, who _whooped_ when Daud surfaced beside him, shaking his hair out of his face. Daud stuck a finger into his own ear and wiggled, treading water while Corvo got the adrenaline out of his system.

“I can’t believe,” Daud grated as Corvo paddled closer to him, still grinning like an airhead, “that I decided to overturn my life for _you_.”

Something softened Corvo’s eyes, and under water Daud felt a hand brush against his waist. A tender, hidden gesture.

“Not just for me,” Corvo said, and the mess in Daud’s chest writhed once more, then settled.

“No,” he agreed, then reached for Corvo. “Come on, before you catch your death.”

“You mean you’re cold and you’d like a proper bath,” Corvo returned without missing a beat, and Daud glared at him.

“You smell like hagfish, too, you know,” he said irritably.

Corvo _guffawed_.

Five minutes later, Daud had successfully dragged Corvo out of the Wrenhaven and back to the gardens, both sopping wet and finding Jessamine and Emily in _tears_. Hysterics, rather. They’d heard the splash, apparently. Both times.

Quite in spite of himself, Daud smiled.


	2. The Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe I let you two talk me into this,” Daud muttered for the fifth time that morning alone. Jessamine nudged Corvo with her elbow, and he did his best not to grin. “And I don’t know what I did to deserve it, either.”
> 
> “Sitting for a portrait is hardly punishment,” Corvo said.
> 
> “Then how come there’s no painting of you anywhere around, Lord Protector?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's Daud making an absolute fool of himself. He's going to do an art theft. OF HIS OWN FACE.
> 
> This is also a belated birthday gift to spider_fingers! Happy birthday, little bee! 🐝

Corvo and Jessamine watched Daud as he fidgeted in his coat — not an unusual occurrence by itself. Although the Royal Spymaster’s robes had been altered to better suit Daud’s less elaborate (or, as he put it, _gaudy_ ) style and to allow for the requisite freedom of movement, Daud generally avoided wearing them. Of course they weren’t suitable for patrols, anyhow, but the assassin would much rather he didn’t have to dress up for Court, either. Still, some days there was no getting around it — and getting _out_ of it only at the end of the day, most often under Corvo and Jessamine’s gentle (and appreciative) supervision.

As it was, Daud’s obvious discomfort in this particular situation was only parallelled by his impressive glare, currently levelled at Anton Sokolov, who was more or less hiding behind his easel and canvas.

“I can’t believe I let you two talk me into this,” Daud muttered for the fifth time that morning alone. Jessamine nudged Corvo with her elbow, and he did his best not to grin. “And I don’t know what I did to deserve it, either.”

“Sitting for a portrait is hardly punishment,” Corvo said.

“Then how come there’s no painting of you anywhere around, Lord Protector?” Daud returned acerbically. For all that he’d come a long way in the past year, he still was and always would be a right _git;_ uneasy to impress.

“I did make the suggestion after his appointment,” Sokolov interjected, recovering his bravery. “Only I was shot down by a very polite, _shy_ young man.”

Corvo wasn’t sure anyone in the room appreciated the _leer_ that accompanied Sokolov’s words. Before either of them could say anything, however, Sokolov continued, “And now, there’s going to be two of your handsome face, Daud.”

Daud stilled, his eyes boring ahead as though he could pierce the canvas and stare Sokolov into silence. Or possibly into an early grave.

“Ah,” Sokolov said smugly, “you can try and glower at me all you want, but I have not forgotten the first time you stood for me like this.”

Corvo and Jessamine shared a curious glance.

“The first one?” Jessamine echoed.

Sokolov laughed. “Oh, he’s not told you?”

Daud gripped the back of the chair he was standing next to so hard the wood creaked.

*

Two weeks later, Corvo and Daud found themselves in Sokolov’s study, adjacent to his lab on top of Kaldwin Bridge. Anton had just left the room, but was still talking at them about his latest research into the Cosmos and the Void and the Outsider; and before them sat, framed in gilded brass, Daud’s portrait on a display stand. Tall and his shoulders and chest so broad in his Spymaster’s uniform coat, Daud’s grey eyes were glaring at the viewer as though contemplating their weaknesses, preparing to strike. Corvo, certainly, felt very seen.

Standing next to him, Daud, by the looks of things, was _simmering_. Staring at the painting — if looks could kill, or at the very least set on fire — he seemed to be grinding his teeth. Corvo could see a muscle in his jaw tick.

“Daud,” he said quietly.

“Enough,” Daud growled and, before Corvo could intervene, drew a dagger from his belt.

“Daud,” Corvo repeated, this time with alarm.

But he could only watch as Daud cut the painting from its frame almost painstakingly neatly, and then — and Corvo had to stifle a sharp intake of breath — rolled it up folded it, and then stuffed it into his customary red coat, somehow not completely ruining the line of it. There was some fine tailoring in those Whaler robes as well, Corvo had found.

Corvo stared. “What are you doing?” he hissed, eyes flying between Daud and the door. “He’ll be back any second!”

Daud returned to where he’d been standing before in one, swift movement, and said nothing. His jaw had stopped twitching.

“… So as I was saying,” Sokolov was still talking as he stepped back into the room, “the Void—“

He stopped dead in his tracks, mouth open. He stared at the empty frame for a few silent seconds, and then he turned to them.

“Where is it?”

Corvo opened his mouth to answer (what, he didn’t rightly know), but Daud beat him to it.

“Where’s what?”

Sokolov’s face began to turn red. “The painting,” he thundered — a brave thing to do in the presence of the new Spymaster. A brave and foolish thing.

“What painting?” Daud drawled, sounding bored and looking it, too. Corvo clicked his mouth shut. He could not be so sure of his own expression; he only knew that this, apparently, was the man he and Jess had fallen hopelessly in love with.

Sokolov stared at Daud, Daud stared back, his deadpan expression never faltering. It was a battle of wits now.

Corvo was curious who’d win. (His money was on Daud. It always was, these days.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, isn't it LOVELY that they're both so stupid! 🐀

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 with Daud being an absolute fool coming up later this month!


End file.
